


Stand by Me

by cinderella1147



Series: Off The Record [1]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella1147/pseuds/cinderella1147
Summary: Takes place one week after S02E05 “News Night with Will McAvoy” finished. What if Scott was more a psycho than we first thought and his bruised ego couldn't let it go that Sloan got the last word.





	Stand by Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: Part 1 of a series of stories about what could/should have happened between or during certain episodes. I mostly follow the original timeline of the show and don't alter significantly anything that's canon. Some ideas expand on what has been mentioned on the show specifically, others are completely made up. Given that currently my main obsession is the Don/Sloan relationship, these stories will feature them heavily, but occasionally other characters might show up as well (because I love them all :) ).  
> Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Note 2: I feel like in this particular story Sloan is a bit OOC, but I'm justifying it with the fact that what's happening is not completely normal, either. Hopefully the upcoming stories will be more in character for both her and Don. 
> 
> Note 3: Am totally aware that there are probably gaping holes in the story when it comes to the legal/investigative storyline, but honestly, that was not really the point of this story anyway. However, constructive cristicism is always welcomed. Also, English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know if I messed some grammar/vocabulary stuff up. :)
> 
> Note 4: Obv, nothing is mine, but since Sorkin is done playing with these characters, I figured it would be okay to borrow them for a little while.
> 
> 3-13-18: story edited for grammar/flow related issues, no change to the plot.

"He’s an asshole right on top." (Sloan, S02E05)

***

Friday, March 23, 2012  
8:04AM  
ACN OFFICES

Don usually arrived to ACN around 10 in the morning, but he had a pre-interview to prep for, and wanted to get a headstart on the day. With coffee in his hand and bag slinging from his shoulder, he made his way inside the building, up to the 21st floor, and inside ACN territory. Things were relatively calm, a couple of colleagues were working by their desks, someone was trying to unjam a page from a copy machine in the bullpen, while the morning cleaning crew was just finishing up. Most of the staff would arrive later, given the hour they finished the broadcast the day before. He stopped in momentary surprise when he caught the sight of Sloan walking up the staircase to her office. She was on the air with Elliot until 11pm, and as usual, she stayed to discuss next day’s show for another hour afterwards.  
Curiosity won, Don sped up his pace to hurry after her. She was already in her office, taking off her trench coat when he knocked and stepped in.

“Hey,” greeted him the woman.  
“Hey. You’re here early.”  
“So are you,” said Sloan raising an eyebrow elegantly. She was in a pair of dark skinny jeans and a cream-colored cashmere sweater. For a moment, he got distracted by how fuckin’ flawless she looked (in anything, at anytime, really), but especially in the low morning light streaming from the windows.   
“Yeah, need to get a head start on some work,” he provided with a small smile, while she was unpacking her bag.  
Later, she would reason to herself that the smile distracted her, but truth be told, she was already pretty distracted, so she didn’t even notice that she pressed the blinking button of the voicemail on her office-phone. It was a routine motion. In some ways, she was a creature of habit. She hated when emails, voicemails piled up, so she dealt with those first thing in the morning, on most days. But she certainly didn’t plan to play this message with Don in the office. And judging by how Don’s friendly smile disappeared, his brows narrowed and his jaw slacked as he listened to the angry cursing coming from the machine, neither did he:

“You can’t fucking ignore me, Sloan! You hear me? Pick up your fucking phone! You humiliated me in front of my boss and my colleagues. I won’t let you get away with this, bitch. Mark my words.”

The caller, Shithead-from-Arbitrage-Scott, slammed the phone down after that, leaving a long minute of silence in the office.

“Sloan…?” He asked in a restrained, tentative voice. 

To stall, she pressed a few buttons to return the phone to the main menu, then answered without looking him in the eyes.

“Yeah, he’s been calling since last Friday. And I’ve been ignoring him since last Friday. Although, maybe it’s not working as well as I was hoping.” She added the second part as an afterthought and finally raised her eyes to him when he moved closer to her desk.

“He’s been harassing you for a week? Why haven’t you said anything? Have you talked to Legal? Sloan, he can’t do this…. Jesus Christ…The nerve of that asshole.” As far as he was concerned, a kick in the nuts and punch in the face was not nearly enough of a punishment for what that shithead did, yet he had the nerve to be offended? To harass Sloan? 

“No, I don’t want to talk to Legal- I’ve had enough discussions with the company lawyers regarding my personal life for a while, thank you very much. Scott is a dick, but his bruised ego will calm down and he will go away eventually. Until then, I have blocked his number on my cell-phone, and screen my office calls. He’s too much of a wuss to try to do anything else, Don.”

“Sloan, this is serious. We can’t just wait and do nothing until it goes away.” His voice was a bit louder and more forceful than before.

“We?” both of her eyebrows moved slightly upward in question. 

Don stammered for a second. He didn’t even notice his slip-up. Obviously, they weren’t a “we.” He knew that. Of course he did. But ever since he spent the better part of last Friday night talking to Sloan in his dark, quiet office, he may have started to entertain thoughts about the two of them that were more than friendly. Okay, that’s factually not correct. He was well aware of his slowly developing crush on the smart and sassy anchor since his other slip up of “I’m-not-sure” when she was confessing to Will that she was the leak. But right now, instead of backtracking, he took a deep breath, looked Sloan in the eyes and said:

“Yes. We. You can’t possibly think that I would let you deal with this alone.”

Sloan finally showed a small, thankful smile and nodded.

“Thanks, pal.”

He nodded in return. “Has he left any other messages? Do you still have them?” She nodded, but didn’t provide any further information. “You have to speak to Will and Charlie. I’m sorry, I know this sucks, and if you want, I can fill them in on the general situation, but..”

“Fine, you’re right. You’re right.” She let her head fall to the back of the chair. “I’ll talk to them today. Hey, maybe Will may finally forgive me for setting him up with Annie Oakley.”

Once again in so many days, he marveled how truly impressive she was.“If you need me to go with you when you speak to them, just give me a call. And if you get any more calls, or that jerk tries to contact you in any other way, let me know immediately. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She watched him leave and allowed herself a fraction of a moment to appreciate the view, then turned back to her phone to call Charlie’s secretary. Today was going to be a long day.

 

Friday, March 23, 2012  
2:04PM  
WILL’S OFFICE

“Thank you for meeting with me. Us. Me, mostly,” she started, then stopped.  
Will raised his eyebrows in question, “What is this about, Sloan?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but for a second no sound came out. She could feel her cheeks flushing as she was trying to find the words to involve her bosses in yet another disastrous aspect of her social life. Don, who for all intents and purposes promised himself that he would stay silent and let her handle this the way she saw fit, just couldn’t hold it in anymore:

“That dickhead from Arbitrage is harassing her.”

“What now?” said Will in dangerous, threatening whisper as leaned forward in his chair, and Don suddenly realized that the big brother-little sister relationship between Sloan and Will that she occasionally joked about, was absolutely, 100% valid.   
Charlie was vibrating with tension. “What the hell does that mean exactly? What happened?” 

Sloan, in an effort to calm them down, finally said,  
“It’s nothing. Mostly just calls and messages. Since last Friday, after I broke his nose.”

That certainly didn’t calm them down. Don and Will jumped in at the same time:  
“What do you mean mostly?! What else happened?”  
“Start from the beginning and we’re gonna need some details.” Then he opened the first drawer of his desk and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

They sat around the small table in the corner of Will’s office while Sloan explained the phone calls and messages she’s been getting. Once she got to the message of this morning, she added:  
“His calls have been annoying and sometimes scary, but I thought he would get tired of it eventually. But then my building’s manager called about 10 minutes ago and informed me that my place was broken in and ransacked.” 

She paused for a moment, then continued with more edge in her voice. “Someone broke in and made a mess, and now the police want me to go there and see if anything is missing....but frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with this. He knew where I lived, he knew that I wouldn’t be home at this time of the day… So, consider me officially pissed. Also, any advice on what the fuck I should do to stop this nonsense, would be most appreciated.” 

She looked like she was simultaneously relieved to have gotten it all out, and on the verge of asking Charlie for a glass of single malt. Her gaze moved from Will to Charlie to Don. There was a silent communication happening between the three of them that Sloan couldn’t decode, then finally, Charlie silently stood up.  
“I need to make a call,” and swiftly left the room. 

Will turned to her, “Sloan, you need to go back to your place, talk to the police, see what’s missing, if anything. You also need to pack a bag with whatever you may need for the next few days. I don’t want you going back there until this is dealt with. Don, go with her- Jim can cover for you in the afternoon rundown meetings.” 

He lit another cigarette.   
“Don’t look at me like that, Sloan. I appreciate how badass you can be, but believe me when I say this, as a prosecutor, I’ve seen this kinda shit go from bad to worse in a nanosecond and there’s no way we’ll let that happen to you. Hey, worst case, we’re overreacting and you’ll get to chew me out about it.”

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. Truthfully, she was grateful for their help, and Will’s comment about her being “badass” kind of made her day, so she decided not to argue. Will continued, “I don’t think staying at a hotel is good idea, so you can stay with Mac, or me, or -”  
“She’ll stay with me,” Don interrupted with an unwavering finality. There was no fuckin’ way he would let her out of his sight while that asshat was free to roam the streets of New York.

Will studied the younger man, and must have found a satisfying response in Don’s silent confidence, because he finally nodded, and pushed the cigarette butt in the ashtray in front of him.  
“Good. You should go now, and find me when you get back.”

Sloan’s protest was cut short by the determined and decisive look on Don’s face. Eventually, she turned to Will and raised her hand in a mock salute as she stood up.  
“Yes, Sir.”

Will just rolled his eyes, relieved to see some of her sass returning.

 

Friday, March 23, 2012  
2:58 PM  
SLOAN’S APARTMENT

Sloan entered her apartment, with Don following closely behind. The loft-style apartment took up half of the floor, the other half was another flat, identical in size. Mrs. Stenwick, aged 96+ has been living there since 1921 and Sloan suspected that the woman had another 10-20 years to go before she moved anywhere. She was a delightful one, with enough spirit to last another lifetime, though the years weren’t easy on her. For instance, her hearing wasn’t particularly good, which would explain how she had no idea what was going on next door.   
‘Sound proof doors or not, it must have took some serious noise to make such a mess,’ Sloan thought idly. 

The decorative table that used to stand on the right side to her front door was lying on the floor, along with the little knick-knacks she kept on it. A small, clear vase- now broken; two books she got from MoMa, more for decor purposes, than actual reading - now half open on the floor, with several pages wrinkled; and a small bronze statue, nonfigurative, because she prefers those to anything else- rolled halfway to the living room by the force that knocked the table out. She made a mental note to check the table for scratches, once things went back to normal. Then, as she looked around, she realized it would be awhile before things were normal again.

“Fucking bastard…” she heard Don mutter the words she was thinking, genuine rage emitting from his voice. 

The flat was in complete disarray: couch pillows thrown around and cut up, furniture moved, mirrors broken, books everywhere, cabinets emptied. She slowly turned around to take it all in, and a stray thought resented the glorious afternoon sunshine that blasted in on the huge, wall-to-wall windows. The more she looked at the details, the more frustrated and violated she felt. Her lower lip began to tremble, and she slacked her jaw to prevent the tears that were threatening. A tentative, gentle touch brought her senses back, as she felt Don wrap her hand in his in a comforting gesture. She’s never been so thankful for his quiet reassurance, and the fact that he knew- he just knew- that she didn’t need empty words of reassurance right now, and that she would completely resent a full-blown hug, or anything overly theatrical. She was a grown woman, for God’s sake. She was not going to fall apart because her shithead ex had a bruised ego and, evidently, serious mental issues. But Don’s solid, unwavering presence was exactly the kind of support she needed. She squeezed his hand in response, and they only separated when footsteps approached from the direction of the bedroom. 

“Ms. Sabbith?” asked the man in his mid-sixties. He had grey hair and beard, and he was wearing what Sloan imagined to be a New York detective’s uniform: dark suit, a bit wrinkled here and there, blue shirt, and a striped tie that was loosened at the neck and lay crooked as a result. He had a face like a basset hound- a bit sad, but completely friendly and trustworthy. He held out his right hand to introduce himself.  
“I’m Detective James Robinson, NYPD. Your building manager called the police when he found the front door half open and he saw the mess inside. I was alerted when the responding officers found what appears to be a message in the bedroom. They are downstairs taking statements now.”

“Message? What kind of message?” asked Don. “Sorry, Don Keefer, friend of Ms. Sabbith and we also work together.”

“Someone left a “note” on the bedroom wall with spray paint.”

Sloan made her way to the bedroom in quick, hurried steps, with Don and Robinson following behind. Her bed was positioned on the wall to left from the door, and above the headboard there were black, block letters:

YOU’LL PAY BITCH

For a couple of moments, she just stood there and stared at it, then she remembered what Don said last Friday night. ‘I can’t believe a shithead this big is able to keep it a secret from someone they’ve been dating for seven weeks.’ She was baffled, too. She had no idea how that “nice guy she met at the Forbes party” turned into this psycho. She crossed her arms in front of her as an involuntary, defensive gesture, then turned left to check out the walk-in closet.

A few minutes later, she emerged and looked at Robinson,  
“I need to pack up a few things since I won’t be staying here tonight….are you guys finished?”

Robinson nodded, “Yes, absolutely. When you’re done, let me know, we need to talk for a few minutes.” With that, he left Don and Sloan in the bedroom.

“How can I help?” asked Don, as he picked up a pillow and threw it back to the bed where it should have been. 

“Help me set this place on fire.”

“Do you keep the matches in the kitchen?”

Her lips turned up almost invisibly, and for the tenth time since they entered her place, he thought he was going to beat the shit out of the asshole that did this.

***  
“Can you think of anything that’s missing?” “No. Nothing has been taken. I have a safe, and that’s untouched, too.” Sloan observed Robinson as he wrote in his notebook. He did look like someone who stepped out of a Columbo episode. “From the message, I think it’s safe to say this was personal, and not random vandalism. Can you think of anyone that could do this? Have you been in a confrontation with anyone lately?” Uncharacteristically, she fidgeted with her sweater’s sleeve, but her answer was to the point: “I broke up with my ex last Thursday. That night, he posted some nude of photos of me on the internet. On Friday night, I walked to his office, interrupted a staff meeting to kick him in the nuts and punch him in the face. He has been leaving increasingly frustrated and angry voice and email messages ever since, which I’ve been ignoring. The last message was on my office phone this morning. A few hours later, I got a call that this happened.” Detective Robinson’s eyes widened imperceptibly, then he handed Sloan his notebook: “Please write down his name, and contact information. Also, if you have a photo, please forward to my phone.” He handed her a business card with this contact information. Sloan was handing back the notebook when Don spoke up. “I assume you can’t arrest him based on Sloan’s testimony alone. What happens next?” “Next, we’re going to investigate him, and then take him in for questioning.” 

 

Friday, March 23, 2012  
4:04PM  
ACN OFFICES

By the time Don and Sloan made it back to the office, the newsroom was buzzing, the two night-teams were busy preparing for the new broadcast. Elliott greeted Don in the bullpen with a loud, “Hey, man, where have you been?”

Don exchanged a quick glance with Sloan, who briskly walked to her office.

“Just had to take care of a couple things. Will knew about it and Jim was supposed to cover for me.”

“Yeah, he did, I was just curious. You’ve never disappeared before a broadcast before. Everything alright?” Don saw the honest concern in his eyes, but he had no intention of sharing the day’s events with anyone. That was Sloan’s decision. 

“Yeah, all good. Listen, I need to grab Will for a second, but I’ll meet you in 10 minutes and we can go over what I missed.”

He nodded, and Don was off to the other end of the floor. Will was on the phone with someone, but waved to Don to enter. 

“Yeah… Yeah...I’ll keep you posted,” he hung up without further ado. “So, what happened?”

Don dropped down in a chair, then filled him in on the state of the apartment, the message, and what the Detective said. 

“How is she holding up?”  
“Truthfully? A lot better than how I would if I was in her shoes. She’s obviously shaken, and so much quieter than she normally is- which scares me more than anything, I think. But she’s holding it together. For now. I’m not sure what will happen if she gives herself time to absorb it all.” 

“Okay. We’ll keep an eye on her. Only Charlie and I know about this, but I have to fill in Mac as well. That okay?”

“I mean, it should be Sloan’s decision, so give her a heads up, but I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“I’ll talk to her. In the meantime, you keep me updated if there are any news. Any news.”

“Yeah.” He looked out the window for a beat, then without looking back at Will, continued. “Ever since I heard that message this morning, I keep thinking about how I could have missed this. How have I not noticed that he’s been bothering her for a solid week? How did I not see what a fuckin’ psychopath he was? I swear, if I thought it would solve anything, I’d just march over to Arbitrage right now and throw him out the fuckin’ window.”

“No argument here.” Will grabbed a cigarette, and drew in a deep breath. “The good thing is, we know who he is, how he looks like, where he lives. Now it’s just a matter of time until the police get enough evidence to lock him up.”

Don looked at his boss, then got up to leave. He was at the door when Will’s voice stopped him.

“Don,” he turned back and waited. “We’ll protect her. Together, you, me, Charlie, Mac. We’ll protect her, because she’s one of ours. But you need to figure out what happens when this is over. Do you understand?”

He nodded.  
“You do take your big-brother responsibilities pretty seriously, huh?”  
“You better believe it.”

 

Saturday, March 24, 2012  
12:45AM  
DON’S APARTMENT

Above all else, Sloan was a professional, so the staff didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. She anchored her segments without a hitch, smiled brightly when appropriate, sassed Neal off-camera, and bickered with Mac about giving her two extra minutes on Monday to cover the housing market. 

Not long after Elliot’s show finished, Don and Sloan hailed a cab to head to Don’s place. It seemed the long and eventful day finally took a toll on both of them, because neither could be bothered to fill the silence with (awkward) small talk. 

“Well, this is it.” He announced after closing the front door behind them. Compared to Sloan’s loft, his apartment was smaller, but with the high ceiling and big windows, it had a friendly vibe and not much of the “bachelor pad” stereotype. The wall behind the dark blue sofa was decorated with framed movie posters of classics, like the Godfather, Spartacus, Some like it hot, and Rear Window. The bookshelf on the other wall was filled to the maximum with books, and the kitchen in the corner was neat and organized. In fact, much neater and more organized than Sloan’s ever been.

She put down her bag by the sofa, and walked to the window to check the nighttime view from the 7th floor condo.   
“Why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ll change the sheets real quick and you can get to sleep in no time,” Don suggested.

“What? Don, don’t be ridiculous, I’m not taking the bed. Just give me a comforter and I can sleep on the couch. I’m small, I can fit on the couch easily. You’ll be miserable there by the morning.”

“Sloan. There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the couch. You had a long-ass day- you need a good rest.” After a beat, he added, “Please. Just let me be the good guy.”

She rolled her eyes, muttered “macho macho men” under her breath, then nodded. “Fine. But if you have back pain tomorrow, don’t come to me crying.” And the sass was back. He grinned to her retreating back, then moved quickly to change the bedding to a fresh one. He threw a pillow and comforter on the couch for himself then changed into a clean t-shirt and flannel pants. 

Soon enough, Sloan emerged from the ensuite bathroom in a black Guns N Roses t-shirt, checkered pajama pants, and hair in lopsided bun. Don couldn’t help but raise an appreciate eyebrow at her outfit:  
“Appetite for Destruction?”  
She grinned involuntarily, once again glad that Don just *got* her. “Yeah, I thought it fit the situation perfectly.”  
“No kidding.” He grinned back, then asked, “you want tea, … or beer,..or anything?”  
“Or anything, if that means something stronger than tea or beer.”  
“Thought you’d say that.” He put two mid-size tumblers on the coffee table, then patted the couch next to him in invitation. Sloan joined him and watched as he served an inappropriate amount of whiskey for the two of them. He passed one glass to her, then held up the other in the air. He wanted to say something profound, or uplifting, or even vengeful, but couldn’t come up with anything remotely appropriate, so he let it go and settled for a silent toast and gentle clink of the glasses. Sloan didn’t mind it one bit. She shot back most of the glass in one go, then leaned into the back of the couch and enjoyed as the taste of whiskey reached every part of her soul. 

“This is good stuff.”  
“Yeah,” acknowledged Don, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and continued to nurse the remaining of his whiskey. They sat in comfortable silence, staring out the window into the night and Don occasionally refilling their glasses. 

She’d been so still for a couple of minutes, he thought she may have fallen asleep, when she reached for the bottle again and topped up her empty glass herself.  
“Today sucked ass,” she said with some finality.  
“It really did.”  
“You know, there were long minutes when I completely forgot about it? Like, during broadcast. I was so focused, I totally zoned in the job, so when we wrapped for the day, it just hit me again, and honest-to-God, for a half second I thought it had happened to someone else. As if it wasn’t actually my ex, my apartment, my life... Like it was a movie I’ve seen. Then reality hit me and made me want to throw up… or throw things.”

“I know what you mean. Last week was surreal enough...and I know you’re a grown woman who doesn’t need saving, but I really wanted to add an extra punch in his face when we were at Arbitrage. But now? Now, I wanna set that fucker on fire.”

She let out a chuckle and looked at him with a thankful expression. He was leaning forward, staring ahead, so he couldn’t have seen her slightly wistful, dreamy expression.   
“Thanks for letting me stay here.”

Hearing this, he turned his head, then turned toward her with his whole body and leaned to the back of the couch, right next to her. His expression was serious and his eyes travelled over her face: the freckles on her forehead, the elegant arch of her brows, the green eyes that were surprisingly clear considering the amount of alcohol they’ve just had, her youthful complexion that was not hidden behind professional makeup- flawless, as usual, and those shapely lips. He wanted to kiss her so badly. Part of his brain even reasoned that she might welcome the opportunity to focus on something (someone) else for a while. But he knew making a move at this moment would be a colossal mistake. It would be taking advantage- not just of her inebriated state, but she was mentally and emotionally exhausted and had only broken up with that shithead a week ago. Don was a 100% sure they would be great together, but he wasn’t willing to risk their relationship by accidentally entering a ‘rebound’ territory. No, if Sloan and him ever going go for it, it needs to be a sober, unquestionable decision. But, God, he really want to kiss her right now. It would be so easy, too. Just to lean forward a little bit. He could smell the scent of whatever moisturizer she must have used for the night. It was a fresh, sweet scent that he couldn’t identify, but would always associate with her and this moment from now on. 

Forcing his brain to obey the decision he made moments ago, he mentally rewind the tape to what made him lean back in the first place. Sloan thanking him. Right.

“It wasn’t even a decision. You are welcome to stay here anytime, for any reason. You should know that. But, you should also know that in this particular situation, had you refused, I probably would have staked out the place wherever you were staying, or simply invited myself over. And I know this is completely over-the-line, and borderline chauvinistic, but let me put it this way: I know you can handle yourself, it would have been for my own mental health and general peace of mind.”

There was a slight tease in what he was saying, but from his expression she could tell he meant every word. She decided not to argue and let a small smile grace her face.

“Understood.” She then put her empty glass on the coffee table and stood up. “I think I’m going to turn in now. And probably sleep until 3pm,” added with a small chuckle.   
“Good night, Sloan.” He was watching her walk toward his bedroom (a sight, by the way, that was doing odd things to his heart) when she stopped after a few steps. She seemed to be hesitating, then slowly turned around, walked right back to where he was sitting and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

“Good night, Don.” With that, she retraced her steps, went straight to bed and Don guessed she promptly fell asleep, too. 

He, on the other hand, laid on his back, staring at the ceiling for another half an hour before the alcohol and the day’s events (and that brief kiss) caught up with him and he finally fell asleep.

 

Saturday, March 24, 2012  
1:57PM  
DON’S APARTMENT

“Please, tell me you have more of that coffee I smell,” begged Sloan as she stumbled from the bedroom to the living room. Her hair was messy, t-shirt wrinkled, and eyes still half closed. She was all soft lines, and slow movements and Don couldn’t help but smile when he looked up from behind the kitchen island that separated the kitchen and the living room. Evidently, she was not a morning person. Or, afternoon as it may be. He silently filled a CJS mug with strong espresso, added a splash of milk and brown sugar, then pushed it toward her on the counter.

She sat down on a barstool and closed her eyes as she took a sip.   
“You are a demi-God.”

He laughed out loud and turned back to the stove.  
“Wait till you try the french toast I can make. I have mad skills.”

“If it’s as good as the coffee, I may never leave.”

Don’s hand froze mid-air for a half second. Thank God he had his back to her. His expression would have revealed far more than he was ready to share. He needed to navigate the conversation to a different topic.

“How do you like your omelette? Plain, cheese, ham, or mushroom?”  
“Oh, I get to pick? You really are the best. Can I have cheese and mushroom then? But does this mean I still get to sample the french toast, or were you just joking about that?”

With a small smile, he turned to the fridge to get the cheese out and throw a quick glance in her direction. “No joke. The french toast will be ready by the time you finish the omelette. I know you well enough not to joke about food.”

She narrowed her eyes at his back, and contemplated throwing a napkin at him, but decided it was too much effort, so she just stuck out her tongue in retaliation. 

“I saw that.”  
“But.. wha..how?”  
“The backsplash has a mirror-y finish …. I can see your reflection in it.”  
“Oh...well. I won’t be apologizing. But you can refill my coffee and we can forget about that jibe about my eating habits.”  
“Sure thing, Professor.”

He did refill her mug, and a few minutes later they were eating in a comfortable silence. Don decided that he liked this. A lot. And he could definitely get used to Saturday mornings (well, early afternoons) spent like this. Once this fuckery was resolved… he’s definitely going to figure out how to make a move that won’t ruin their friendship. 

His internal musing was interrupted by Sloan’s phone going off. She hurried to the bedroom where she left it, while Don started cleaning up. He wasn’t paying too much attention until he heard her voice was rising.

“How is that possible?” Sloan was clearly focusing all her attention at what she was hearing. “I don’t get it… So what’s next? You’ll just close the case and let this go?”  
This call was not about good news. After some more back and forth, Sloan finally hung up.   
When she didn’t immediately offered an explanation, he prodded.  
“Was that - ?”  
“Detective Robinson, yes.” She shook her head in disbelief then looked at him to continue. “They questioned Scott, he apparently has an airtight alibi for the the time of the break-in. As for the calls, they are only a misdemeanor, they can’t lock him up for that. So, yeah. I’m thinking it’s time to bring out that single malt we haven’t finished last night.”

“Shit. Fuck.” Don felt his insides shake from nerves. “He must have hired someone to do the dirty work.” He rubbed his face with his palms. “Okay, first, we have to call Will- I promised him updates as soon as we knew anything, then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

 

Saturday, March 24, 2012  
4:57PM  
WILL’S APARTMENT

Will tapped on screen of his phone to hang up with Don and Sloan, then immediately dialed another number.

“Charlie, we got a problem.” Once he relayed what he just heard, he added, “You know, this is shaping up to be a clusterfuck and honestly, we’ve had enough of those, so I’d rather not wait while the police take their time to go through the official channels.”

“I’ll make the call.”

“Have them figure out who he hired, and we’ll have a conversation with both him and the Shithead about what his options are for a prosperous future.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let you know when I hear back from them. We’ll split the bill.”

“Deal.”

They hung up, and Will walked to his bar to prepare a drink. Charlie and him both have connections to a private security company that they occasionally enlisted for their expertise. It’s a bunch of ex-military guys, good guys who have seen too much, and done too much to simply hang up the uniform and apply for deskjobs. They specialize is high-end building security, occasionally guarding celebrities, and other jobs that would arise from the elite clientele they were catering to. Charlie served with their CEO way back then, while Will has been friends with their chief operating officer for more than 10 years, so their bond was more than just a business one. Asking them to look into the past and present of Scott-Shithead-Whatshisname, was a no brainer, Charlie alerted them the moment Sloan shared what has been happening. Now, that the NYPD’s efforts seemed to have slowed down, Will thought it would be pointless to wait them out. Their guys can move faster, and they can be exceptionally thorough.

 

 

Sunday, March 25, 2012  
7:57PM  
DON’S APARTMENT

In some ways it was a completely uneventful weekend. On Saturday, they ordered thai for dinner, watched the first part of The Godfather (Don insisted, after learning that Sloan has never seen it), and they went to sleep at a much more reasonable time than the night before. On Sunday, Sloan was getting antsy, so they went back to her place to pick up some more clothes, tidied up most of the living room and the kitchen, then had a late lunch in a SoHo bistro. They spent the next hour walking around the area, stopping at bookstores and browsing at the local street-market. Don’s main goal was to distract Sloan from what’s been happening, and it looked like it was working, until they got back to his flat.

“How long do you think we can keep this up?” asked Sloan, as she was organizing her clothes on top of the dresser.   
“Keep what up?” Don asked, leaning to the door frame, with hands in the pockets of his jeans.  
“This. Me living in your bedroom, from a weekender. You, sleeping in your living room. On a couch that’s half your size.” Not that she didn’t enjoy the weekend, and this living arrangement has been a lot nicer- and a lot easier to get used to- than she imagined, but she missed her home, and her shoes, and her own bed, and she was so pissed that Scott managed to turn her life upside down in a matter of a week.   
“I don’t know. For what it’s worth, I don’t mind that you’re here. Sure, I may need to invest in a better couch, but that’s a small price to pay for the fact that you’re safe. But,” he said, as he help up his hands in defense, when he saw she was about to interrupt. “But, we’ll talk to the Detective tomorrow, hopefully they made some progress. And if not, I still haven’t ruled out setting that asshole on fire.”   
He was about to continue, when there was a quick rap on his front door. They certainly weren’t expecting any visitors. He went to the door, and opened it immediately when he saw it was Will.

“Hey, come in. Has something happened?” He didn’t figure Will the type to drop by for a social visit.  
“Yeah, something like that.”   
Sloan looked puzzled. “What’s going on? And let me tell you, if it’s another piece of bad news, I’ve had my fill of that lately, so maybe it can wait until Monday? Mondays suck anyway.”

“Actually, it’s good news. Let’s sit down.” When they did, he began.  
“Charlie and I hired a security company to look into this issue. You probably don’t want to know the details, and in terms of liability, it’s actually better that you don’t, but nevertheless, they tracked down the guy who was hired to break in. These guys can be pretty convincing, so he’s currently in NYPD custody giving his statement of the events. Now, here’s where it gets tricky. My guys were able to connect Scott to this other dickhead, but not in completely legal ways, so the PD won’t be able to use that as evidence, and even when he makes a confession, it’s sort of his words against Scott’s. However…” he paused for a second to make sure his words were carefully selected. “Well, let’s just say, we were pretty convincing.”

 

FLASHBACK  
Sunday, March 25, 2012  
2:07PM  
SCOTT’S APARTMENT

“Hello, Scott.” Greeted Will the man who was currently wiping blood off his nose. Will stepped further inside his kitchen and looked around. Three of the hired security guys, dressed black long sleeved t-shirts and black military-style training pants, were standing at various spots in the flat. One of them had a hand on Scott’s shoulder, keeping him seated in a chair. Scott’s nose was bleeding profusely, but Will couldn’t see any other injuries. 

“Do you know who I am?”

Scott answered with a sneer, “Yeah, you’re the big, mighty news anchor, McAvoy.”

“Correct. Let me fill you in on what’s been happening.” He leisurely walked to kitchen table in the corner, pulled out a chair, and sat down facing him in the opposite corner. The “9” feet tall guy wearing all black shoved him back in the chair when he attempted to stand up. 

“Last week, you paid a handsome chunk of money to a guy named Peter Gordon to break in and tear apart Sloan Sabbith’s apartment. You also instructed him to leave her a message. You were very precise what the message should be and where to leave it. But you were also very precise about the details of the break in: you told him when to break in- so she wouldn’t be home, and to make sure you had a rock solid alibi for that morning. You must have watched a shit-ton of CSI to come up with this plan. Anyway. When we learned that the police ran into dead ends, I asked my friends here to help a little,” he motioned with his hands to the man standing nearby, “and as I’m sure you have put two and two together, they got a hold of Gordon, who naturally confessed everything, and is currently being booked at the precinct. Here’s where it gets interesting. Your involvement in all this, because even though we have a confession, we know that right now it’s your word against his, and unfortunately, that’s not good enough for any judge. But it’s good enough for me.”

Will put his elbows on his bent knees and leaned forward to make sure he had Scott’s full attention. 

“Make no mistake, I badly want to give these guys the “go” to just make you disappear from the face of the planet, and erase any sign that you ever existed. You messed with one my own, Scottie. And that means you messed with me. I’m old man who just doesn’t tolerate that anymore. Now, I could wait until the justice system works out the kinks of this clusterfuck you’ve created, but I’m also an impatient man, and frankly, I’m not willing to risk you going after Sloan again in the meantime. So, we made some calls. Effective immediately, your company decided to move you to their office in Colorado. You’ll leave tomorrow night, the ticket has been emailed to you already. You’ll be demoted to associate, but I think a bit of an attitude adjustment is what you need right now.”

Will’s voice dropped a bit lower. “Also - I hope this goes without saying- you will never contact Sloan Sabbith again. I would also prefer if you never thought of her in kind of context, and in fact, don’t even watch her on television. Now, if you fail to do any of those things - and believe me, I will know about it the minute that happens- let me remind you of something…. I may not yet have enough evidence to put you behind bars, but I do have an hour of primetime at my disposal every day, and I will crucify you five days a week and introduce you to a world of hurt that will make prison seem like an all-inclusive vacation on the Caribbean.”

Scott had the common sense to look sufficiently petrified, so Will decided to wrap it up.   
“See that I’m dead serious. Pack up and get the fuck out of this city. A couple of these gentlemen will keep an eye on you here and in Colorado, too. Think of it as souvenir.”

With that he nodded to the guys in black and left the building.

//End Flashback//

 

Sunday, March 25, 2012  
8:20PM  
DON’S APARTMENT

“Let’s just say, we were pretty convincing, and he’s never going to contact you or think of you ever again. Coincidentally, Arbitrage decided to demote him and transfer him to their Colorado branch as an associate, so he’ll be on the 6pm flight out of Newark to Denver tomorrow night. My guys will make sure that he’s on the plane. And my guys know a few guys in Denver, so we’ll be keeping an eye on him for the time being. In the meantime, hopefully we can gather sufficient evidence to put his ass behind bars..”

Sloan just blinked, her mouth was slightly open as she was trying absorb what Will had just said. Don was just as skilled at imitating a fish, so it was a good half a minute before either of them said anything. Sloan broke the silence:  
“But… but what’s the guarantee that he doesn't come back? Or continue to cause trouble from there?”  
“I explained him how his future would look like if didn’t do what we asked.”  
“I’m not sure I understand.”  
“It’s probably better that way.”  
“Yeah.”

Don finally found his voice.  
“The guy who broke in is under arrest, and the Shithead is leaving town. So, it’s over?”

“As over as can be. The police will continue their investigation, I’m sure. If Scott slipped up somewhere, they will find it, and he’ll be brought to justice. But at least he won’t be nearby, nor will he harass Sloan again.”

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how you did this, but thank you doesn’t seem to cover what I feel.”  
“Don’t mention it. Family first, sis.”  
She let out a relieved chuckle and showed a full smile for the first time in days. Don jumped up, “We’re definitely toasting to this.”

They stood up and gathered their glasses that Don just filled with the amber-colored liquid.   
“To family,” Sloan said gratefully. Will and Don echoed the sentiment, and they clinked together their glasses.

***  
After Will left, Don and Sloan tidied up the remnants of the small, impromptu celebration.   
“So, I think I’ll go back to my place tomorrow after the broadcast. He should be in the air by then, so there’s no reason to cramp your style any longer.”

He smiled. “Whatever you prefer. I don’t mind that you’re here… to be honest, I thought this weekend was pretty fun.”

“It was. Well, aside from the deranged man’s shadow hanging over us,” she laughed a little.  
“Yeah, aside from that.”  
“Hey, I forgot, but Will gave me this card- it’s a contact at the security company they used in… whatever happened today. He said they are waiting for your call so they can install an alarm system at your place.”  
“Wow. Great. I’ll give them call. I can’t believe it’s finally over.”  
“You were truly impressive throughout all this, you know that, right?”  
“Thank you. And thank you for standing by me. That made a world of difference.”  
“Always.”


End file.
